Habits
by aceupthesleeve
Summary: Fenris doesn't care that it is selfish; this yearly ritual is the only way he can deal with a tranquil Hawke.


Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Not a damn thing.

Enjoy 'Habits'.

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><p>Marian Hawke had been obnoxious. She had not had an easy life, but bore her scars with an arrogance that brought me a small smile to recall. She had laughed in the face of destiny, challenged the fates and shoved past all of the hardships and pain with a smirk on her lips. Many men and women would have lost themselves to the pain long ago. Not Marian.<p>

She had been a direct woman; there had been no guessing what she wanted. Such an honesty of character had put many a folk ill at ease. It was one thing to suddenly find a blade between your ribs, what was truly terrifying was to be told that this was going to happen. I had seen her bluntness as a hazardous trait, waiting for it to kill her. All the while I had shied away from it, afraid. Gradually, I had come to appreciate her brutal honesty. I had come to crave its raw purity.

She had once been a powerful woman, instilling loyalty in those that intrigued her, and fear in those that did not. Those that sought a sense of belonging had unwittingly gravitated towards her, myself included. Her stubborn intent gave us the purpose that we so lacked. Try as we might to forge our own futures, the paths beneath our wearied feet always joined once more with Marian's own. Like a moth to a flame, I had been to her.

Despite this all, she had not been an unnecessarily cruel person. If the case called for it, yes, she would not blink as she crushed the bones within men and women's very bodies with but a clench of her fist. Thus, most had guessed her egotistic when she had bought an exaggerated tale of her exploits. Few had looked hard enough to see as she handed the scribe's boy, worn to the bone, an apple and three gold coins for a document that she had no intent of ever reading.

Throughout this all, one could not call her content, no. She was not one to sit by a warm fire with a scripted ballad within her hands. She found ways to busy herself, be it hiring out as a mercenary for a pay slip she no longer required, or smuggling her fellow mages out of a city that she had yet to leave. Even now, looking back, I could not bring myself to agree with some of her extracurricular lines of work. For her, however, I came to turn a blind eye whenever she stuffed a note from the board out front the Mage's Collective into the folds of her robes. Never did I lift a sword against her as she helped apostate after apostate, but neither did I lift a sword for her cause.

Maybe, if I had, things would not be as they are today. I had spent many angry months contemplating this possibility. I always fell asleep hating myself a little more. I would not venture into such dangerous waters now. She needed me, and, this time, she would not be found wanting.

Today Marian sat by the fireplace. Her silence was something that I still found eerie. I think that if I ever grew accustomed to it that would be the point when I would have truly lost everything. I pushed such thoughts aside.

"We leave on the morrow."

She did not reply to my neutral words, staring into the dying embers of a fire she cared not to keep alight. I knew that she would remain as such; staring into the fireplace long after the coals had cooled.

"Did you hear what I said?" I pressed.

It was not anger that laced my voice, merely the exasperation that one would feel as they berated a young child that knew no better. The only difference was that a child would begin to learn. Marian would not.

"We leave on the morrow," Marian copied.

There was no sarcasm, no biting venom in her undertone. It was a hollow statement, merely a repetition of my own. She was neither glad nor anxious that we would soon be leaving. She accepted such a fact unquestioningly.

I didn't have the patience for her silent staring today.

Usually I would patiently encourage her to talk, be it about the healing properties of an elfroot leaf or the Antivan silks she had used to restore her robes. Habits. That's all they were. She merely brewed her potions because it was what I told her she did. She did not create them in her own hindsight, lest she fall ill or retain an injury, but merely because I said so. She used Antivan silk, an old favorite, because she knew it pleased me. Her motivation to please me did not sprout from a desire to see my small smile as I remembered times long passed, no. She did such things because that is what the Templar's had made of her all those years ago; a subservient body that had the face and voice of a woman I had once loved. The spirit of my Marian was long gone.

With little patience left, today I left her to her staring as I found my way to the bottom of a bottle of Aqua Magus. The refined lithium in the potent spirit burnt my insides red hot, sending my tattoos ablaze. I welcomed the pain as it dulled my thoughts as no other liquor could.

So I sat and drank my poison, as Marian sat and stared into the untended fireplace of our small hut.

She rose before I did, silently standing as the last of the day's light dipped below the horizon. The only light source was the dull glow that radiated from the bottom of my bottle, and the tattoos that encased my body in a whorl of unnatural lines.

Without a sound or any form of acknowledgement, she padded into the only adjoining room. I heard the springs of the mattress give but a moment later, and then all was quiet once more.

When I did eventually shuffle to our room it was to find Marian awake. Her eyes were open, contemplating the state of the roof in her usual silence. Her arms lay by her sides, her legs straight. She hadn't bothered to pull the blanket over her body.

I averted my gaze with a set jaw, disgustedly making my way to the bed and positioning myself by her side. Our arms touched, the barest hint of contact. It was all my body needed to react to the carnal desire I held at bay every night whilst I slept beside her. Nights such as these, when the frustration and Aqua Magus was too much and I gave in, were very rare. Other nights I ignored such dirtied wants, choosing instead to be plagued by nightmares of having Marian ripped away from me. I always woke to find her silently watching the ceiling, and found that my reality was no better.

When I was spent, my world spinning from the lithium spirits, I came to my senses once more. The emotions hit me like a wave, leaving me feeling numb and less of a man. She silently observed me as I turned from her, to sit at the side of the bed, hiding my face in my hands. My shame was unspeakable, but I did not cry. I did not deserve to.

"Did I displease you, Fenris?" was all she said.

Silently, I left the room. I did not look back, for I knew that I would see the sheets messed, and the gleam of Marian's pale body in the moonlight. Worse, I knew that she would be back to staring at the roof.

Anger at the Templars, boiled inside of me, anger at the magic that had caused her to be this shell. The raw anger was nothing in comparison to the growing hatred and disgust I held in regard to my own self.

I did not return to bed.

The following day, Marian rose with the sun, silently going about cleaning the broken bottles from the floor and the upturned furniture. To her, the happenings of the previous night were long forgotten. She did not bother herself with the trivialities of the past, nor of the future. Sometimes I wished for such ignorance.

We would be leaving when the sun reached its peak, but I didn't wish her to stop in her futile cleaning. I could not stand to see her sit silently any longer.

Our trip was mainly uneventful. We avoided the Imperial Highway as much as possible, choosing instead to travel where we were sheltered by a cover of trees. It was only when we came to cross the Silent Plains that we stuck to the well-used road. Highwaymen blocked our path closer to the border, but one look at the blade atop my back, the weapon as long as a man was tall, silenced them.

As we crossed the border into the Tervinter Imperium we began to spot small encampments of refugees along the side of the highway. One look told me all I needed to know about them. Mages. Judging from their colouring they'd come from down south, presumably the Free Marches. They were seeking refuge from the aftermath of Ander's and Marian's war against the Templars.

Ander's action of terrorism had left Marian infuriated and feeling silently used, later comparing her blind actions to a puppet, disgust in her tone. Now, because of the changes that Ander's had wrought, anyone was free to pull the strings that moved Marian to their will.

She'd almost killed her friend for his actions. Very nearly killed him for using her trust in him to destroy the chantry and forcibly bring about a tainted revolution. Then, I had condoned her decision not to end his life. Now, I wasn't so quick to.

Once more we left the openness of the highway, following the river downstream, knowing it would bring us closer to the coast. Here, we would not be privy to prying eyes, a slave marked elf and a woman who bore the scar of the tranquil atop her forehead. Both of us were overtly scarred by lithium, and I did not wish to be a spectacle for anyone to look upon us with eyes full of distrust, or worse; pity.

For weeks we travelled in silence, but for our wearied feet atop the grass, and the constant babbling of the nearby river. The sudden onslaught of the senses as we grew to approach the capital, Minrathous, almost made me wish once more for the tranquil silence we had traveled in. Almost.

The city was not as I remembered it. It was full of refugees, not just of the war against the Qunari, but of Southerners, those of Ferelden and Free Marches origins. Decades of decadence had led the once great city into decay, such noticeable failings bringing a small smile to my lips. The high towers of the Circle of Magi rose above the small homes of the commoners and merchants. One with no prior knowledge of politics would only take one look to see who held the power in Tevinter.

The onslaught of memories that this place brought with it made my lips turn upwards in a snarl of disgust. For Marian's sake, and my own selfish intent, I walked on, fists bunched tightly by my sides.

It took us some time before we came upon the house in which I was searching for. A small hovel made predominantly of mud and bricks, like most others within this part of the city. Marian did not question why I stood before the rotten timber door for so long, and for that I was grateful. It was only when she locked eyes with my own, her hollow and empty eyes, did I find the resolve I needed. I did not knock.

Within I found the back of a man, hunched over a desk, a quill in hand. He jolted as the door slammed open, spilling his ink atop his paperwork. I did not fight the smile of tainted glee that such a meagre action brought me.

"Fenris," he greeted.

It was not a warm greeting. Nor was it a hostile one. Instead, it rung of bittersweet sadness and things better left forgotten.

He wore his mage robes, more extravagant of style than I remember. Rings adorned his lobes and feathers of stark orange and grey sprouted from his shoulders. He had become increasingly arrogant since last we'd met. That was not all I noticed had changed, however. His eyes had taken on an inhuman blue tone, and the magic of the fade seemed to radiate from him; more powerful than I ever remembered it.

"Mage," I managed through a frown.

I didn't hide my distaste for the human mage.

With a grimace, I noticed Marian straighten at my use of the word 'mage'.

She had followed me into the small house, acknowledging Anders with a small nod. It was a manner that I had taught to her to retain, merely for a sense of normality. I wished childishly that she did not waste such a giving on the likes of Anders. He offered her a small smile in reply, and I saw the undertone of guilt in his eyes. It was hard for me to miss. I knew what he felt, all too well.

As per habit, Marian made her way to one of the two chairs, the same one she had come to sit in each year we came here. Everything she did was merely a habit. Each breath she took was because it was what she had always done, not because she had any desire to go on living. Such was her current placement; she felt nothing, knowing what Ander's was going to do. She merely sat where he had bid her to that first time, all those years ago.

My heart hammered in my ears, but I dare not give away my fears to Anders. He would not see my weakness, for I did not want to see his mirrored regret. Nor would I look at him, for he would surely see the bittersweet hope in the set of my jaw and eyes. I don't know which I was more ashamed of, the regret or the fruitless hope.

"Are you ready?" Anders asked, his tone neutral.

He reached forward, as if to place a reassuring hand onto my shoulder, only to cover up such a gesture with the dusting of his robes. What he did here today would never make up for his past grievances. He knew this as well as I.

Marian mistook the question as one that he asked of her.

"Yes, mage Anders, I am," she offered blandly.

Her reply from the man was a small sigh, sad eyes willingly turning to rage at the injustice of it all.

I turned away from the sight of her, choosing instead to stare at the roof as she often did. I did what I had come to do best; for her, I turned a blind eye as what I hated most in the world took place right before me. No, it wasn't for her; it was for me. The hypocrisy in my actions was clear. I found that it didn't matter. Not anymore.

I felt the stirrings of the fade pull at the edges of my mind, a silent tug that set me on edge. I shook off the feeling, as the tingling of my lithium tattoos continued to throb dully in reply to the strong pull of Ander's magic.

No, it was the abomination's magic. Anders did not even feint the clean existence of a man now.

My memory recollected what my eyes refused to witness. I knew his eyes had cleared to a glow of intense blue, the pallor of his skin ashen. He willed what he had one insisted was Justice forth. The ease of such a transition would always put me at ill ease. He'd told me once before that this was no easy thing for him. Each year it was harder for him to return, I knew a little more of the man was left behind each time he so readily accepted the fade within him. One day I would have to kill him, I don't know how I felt about such a certainty.

The dull ring of magic hung in the air, chilling me to the bone. No mortal should ever hold such a power.

With steely resolve I averted my gaze from the yellowed ceiling, I could not turn my eye from the abomination for too long. No, it was too risky.

Then, as it had each year, Marian stole the breath from me as she rose from her chair. She was tainted blue, from the light that radiated from Anders still form. No, he was not still. A war raged within him; his muscles tensed to leap and his body shook with the effort it took to stay.

Yes, one day I would have to kill him. One day I would cease this perverted ritual that I had created. One day I would, but not today. I faintly recalled that I had promised such a thing to myself every year we came here. I knew I would promise it, still, for years to come.

A smirk, eyes twinkling wickedly. Marian stepped forward, her head shaking with the humor of it all. I froze as her lips came to press against my own. It was brief. She knew we didn't have long.

"A year already? It felt like yesterday we were here," she whispered.

"For you, perhaps," was all I uttered.

She understood.

"If I was told, five years ago, that you would be the world greatest nanny, I would have scoffed," she uttered, smirk still intact.

I took no offence, for she did not mean any. It was her thanks. It was the closest she could come to saying that she was truly grateful. That she was truly sorry.

I lent my forehead against her own, feeling the slight tremor that went through her whole body.

"I will find a way to fix this," I promised.

A lie. No, a habit.

I knew she did not believe me, but she nodded all the same.

"Will I see you next year?" she pressed with a snort of ill-attempted humor. "Or will you finally tire of me?"

I noticed with shame as she bit down on her lip, fear in her eyes.

The first time I had come to Anders to do this she had been strong and proud. She had instilled a hope within me, for she did not back down quiet so easily. The second time I had been met with disappointment, she had shrugged it aside, saying that she trusted me to keep trying. On the third reunion with my Marian, she had been relieved. She admitted she did not think she would see me with her old eyes again. Last year she had wished me to let her go.

This time, all she had left was sad resignation.

I knew that each time the fade ebbed away and she was cut off from it once more it was like she was being made tranquil and cursed to a half-life all over again. I'd started this for her sake, to let her know that I was going to save her from this fate. Gradually, it had morphed into a source of hope for me, to know that my Marian was still there, she had merely lost her way. Now it was for my sake alone that we came here. It was to feel her lips against my own, to see the smirk on her face, and the twinkle of life in her eyes.

She suffered her greatest fear, again and again, for the moment of peace I felt with her in my arms, wrapped tightly around her, afraid to let go.

I pulled back, seeing only a small smirk that I knew would soon turn thin, and eyes that gleamed in the light that would soon become plain and downcast. What the Templars had created of her had tainted even this small moment of forced normality. She would never be my Marian again. This I realized all to suddenly.

With a twinge of pain, which I tried with all my heart to hide, I knew that this could not go on. It was because I loved her that I knew this to be the right thing.

I offered a small smile and an earnest kiss atop her forehead, holding her close to my chest. I knew she noted the change in my stance, and the resolve in the set of my jaw by the sigh she uttered.

A heard her sniff quietly, but I didn't dare pull her away from me.

It was she who broke the contact. I noted the small smile of silent acceptance.

"Until next year," she whispered.

Another habit. Another lie.

I could not find the words to reply as the smile left my Marian's face for the final time.

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><p><strong>Hope you enjoyed that. <strong>

**If I've got anything wrong, feel free to say so in a review; **

**there are only so many codex entries you can read in the game until you get bored and just collect them for XP. **

**Thanks. **


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